


Some things are better with time

by dragon_temeraire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Emotions, Everybody Lives, Fluff, Future Fic, Jackson Comes Back, M/M, Pack Feels, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 03:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13379052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_temeraire/pseuds/dragon_temeraire
Summary: Jackson returns to Beacon Hills after five years away, and finds out that Derek fucking Hale is still hanging around.





	Some things are better with time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tryslora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/gifts).



> For tryslora, prompted from her wishlist on the teen wolf holiday exchange. I have taken some liberties with the timelines on this fic, and also no one died, so this fic is half AU, half not.

Jackson returns to Beacon Hills after five years away, and finds out that Derek fucking Hale is still hanging around.

He hadn’t let anyone know he was back until the moment he was standing in the Beacon County airport, partly because he liked surprising people, and partly in case he got cold feet and decided to book a flight straight back to London.

But he actually starts feeling relieved while waiting at the baggage claim, admitting only to himself that he’s looking forward to seeing familiar faces from his past, and knows he made the right decision.

He grabs his luggage and rolls out to the curb, wondering what his reception is going to be like. He’s just about to hail a cab when a horn honks, and he turns to find Lydia pulling up in front of him. She rolls down the window, looking as beautiful and sharp as ever, and says, “Get in.”

Jackson does, after arranging his bags in the tiny trunk. They ride in silence for a few moments before she says, “Are you here to stay?”

“I don’t know yet,” Jackson says honestly.

Lydia nods, then asks a few vague questions about life in London that she probably already knows the answer to. He talks anyway, because it’s the only way he has to show he cares.

They’ve just veered into a conversation that’s about to go over Jackson’s head—Lydia’s rundown of her academic pursuits—when he starts paying attention to the passing scenery.

“Hey, where are we going?”

Lydia cuts him an odd look. “The loft,” she says, like it should be obvious.

And while The Loft could certainly be the name of a trendy new restaurant downtown, Jackson’s guessing that it’s not. He’s pretty sure he knows exactly where they’re going.

Sure enough, it’s only a few minutes later that she’s pulling into the parking lot of a familiar building. It looks less…infested and run down now, almost unrecognizable as the place he’d said goodbye to everyone five years ago.

He’d said then, cocky and arrogant, that he wouldn’t miss any of them, and he’d meant it.

But god, does he miss them _now_.

It’s weird, and probably a little pathetic, but he’s practically buzzing with excited energy when he gets out of the car. He somehow feels like he’s _home_. He waits for Lydia to catch up, trying not to show his impatience, but then finds himself a little hesitant when they’ve made it up the stairs to loft’s door.

Lydia reaches past him and rolls it open, and it’s apparent immediately that Derek still lives here—the minimal amount of décor and furniture is a dead giveaway—but he doesn’t get much chance to look around before _Stiles_ is hugging him.

It’s a little shocking, especially when he says, “Dude, it’s so good to see you,” and it’s completely genuine.

The werewolf powers may not have given him what he _really_ wanted—the ability to find his real parents, and the ability to make people admire and value him—but they’re at least useful sometimes.

And Jackson is so pleased by the sentiment, he doesn’t even hassle Stiles for calling him _dude_.

After Stiles lets go, Scott is right there beaming at him, because of course those two are still attached at the hip. He hugs Jackson and says a lot of encouraging things, squeezing Jackson enthusiastically as he does. It’s less unpleasant than he would have thought.

He’s prepared to endure more hugs when Scott lets go, but there aren’t many other people in the loft. Lydia obviously knows what he’s thinking, and says, “You didn’t exactly give us fair warning, and not everyone can drop everything immediately to come see you,” which saves Jackson from having to ask. She cocks her head, smiles at him. “But they’ll be here within the hour anyway.”

Jackson intends to ask who she’s talking about, but then Erica comes sauntering his way, and he forgets all about it.

Derek nods his head toward him, a tiny acknowledgement, but doesn’t try to hug him at all.

Jackson tries not to let that sting.

Soon pizza and salad and breadsticks arrive, along with the missing pack members, which turn out to be Boyd, Isaac, and Allison. Jackson tries to hide how delighted he is to see them, but he doesn’t think he manages well. Allison reaches out to playfully ruffle his hair before pulling him into a hug, and he’s happy to let her.

Danny’s out of state for school, and Jackson didn’t give him any heads up either, but he’ll be driving in tomorrow afternoon. Jackson can’t even think about that too much, because he’ll get too excited about seeing his best friend _in person_ for the first time in years, so he focuses on the present for now.

He heads for the makeshift buffet, and catches Lydia’s look of shock when he piles five pieces of pizza onto his plate. “It’s _real_ pizza,” he says in explanation. He’ll get some salad later. Probably. He doesn’t need to work nearly as hard to maintain his figure these days, so every now and then he likes to really enjoy himself when it comes to food.

Erica squeezes his shoulder as she goes by, and Jackson has to fight not to lean into it, to not seek the contact he desperately craves.

He’s never felt that much connection to the pack—it’s part of the reason he left in the first place—but apparently that bond has only been laying fallow, waiting for the right moment to come to life.

So he eats his pizza on the couch as everyone gradually congregates around him, and tries not to think about the fact that he already feels tied here.

He lets the conversation wash over him, occasionally answering a question or offering some tidbit about his time in England, but it’s obvious they still see him as the same person he was when he left, and it doesn’t leave him with much room to work with.

Because even though he doesn’t want to admit it, he knows he _has_ changed.

And everyone else surely has too, though Stiles seems as snarky as ever, and Scott seems just as kind and trusting as he was in school. But Lydia’s not pretending to be dumb anymore, thank god, and Erica has settled into her looks in a way that suits her.

He thinks maybe, over time, they’ve all changed each other for the better, at least a little bit.

Despite being a werewolf, Jackson eventually starts to feel the effects of jetlag, and after muffling several yawns, says, “Well, I guess I’d better go get a hotel room.”

Everyone suddenly goes still, looking askance at him and then at Derek, who’s been lingering at the periphery this entire time. He says quietly, “You can stay here, if you want.”

That must be some kind of code or something, because suddenly everyone is making their goodbyes and rapidly heading out the door.

Derek keeps his eyes on Jackson as they all leave, and after the clatter of them on the stairs fades, he adds, “Or I can drive you to a hotel of your choice.”

Jackson stares back, but even after several moments he still doesn’t know whether or not this is a trap. He and Derek weren’t exactly on the best terms when he left—“ _you begged for the bite, but once you found out you have to actually put work in you just decide to leave?_ ”—so he can’t imagine a good reason for Derek to want him here now.

“I don’t know what the right answer is,” he says, because this is a fresh start and he can at least _try_ to be better at communicating. “I don’t know if you actually want me to stay, or if you just feel obligated for some reason.”

“I actually want you to stay,” Derek says firmly, and despite Jackson’s careful listening, he can’t detect a lie.

Either that, or Derek knows how much he hates people doing things out of obligation, and somehow masked his heartbeat. It could be a skill he’s learned in the intervening years.

But it’s enough to have Jackson saying, “Okay, then. I’ll stay.” He doesn’t know what the resident broody werewolf wants from him, but he’s planning to find out.

Derek nods, but he doesn’t look particularly victorious. “I’ll show you the bedroom,” he says neutrally, grabbing one of Jackson’s bags and heading across the living room.

In his wake, Jackson can smell _something_ , a quietly pleased sort of scent, and it sends a tingle of warmth through him. He scoops up the rest of his luggage, and follows Derek to a door he’d noticed earlier, but hadn’t remembered from his time here years ago.

Derek pushes it open, revealing a space that has been walled off from the rest of the open plan of the loft, creating a large, private bedroom. Jackson glances curiously over his shoulder, and sees that Derek’s bed is still sitting out in the open. There’s not even a _curtain_.

 _Maybe he’s an exhibitionist_ , he thinks with a smirk.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Derek says, which startles Jackson out of the slightly lewd direction his thoughts were going. He gives Jackson one last lingering look, then abruptly turns and leaves.

Based on the noise, he’d guess Derek is cleaning up the mess left by his Welcome Back party. He drags all of his stuff into the room, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. This place smells more neutral, less like _pack_ than the rest of the loft. He tries to be productive, hanging up some of his more wrinkle-prone clothes before getting bored and sitting on the bed.

Without everyone else around him, he suddenly feels a little off-center and isolated. He’s not sure he can ever truly belong here now—in fact, he’s not sure if he ever did. It’s a lonely thought, and he does his best to push it away.

Right then Derek leans in the doorway, catching Jackson staring at his half-unpacked suitcase. “You okay?” he asks, eyebrows raised and face open and concerned.

Seeing that, Jackson knows he’s _not_ the only one who’s changed. He hopes that means Derek isn’t hanging around high schools nearly so much these days.

“Yeah,” he says. “Just tired.” It must ring true enough, because Derek doesn’t push for more.

Looking at him, Jackson has a strange, sudden urge to ask Derek to touch him; wants to feel Derek’s fingers on the back of his neck. But he swallows it down, because he’s not sure either of them have changed _that much_.

“Get some rest,” Derek says, then pulls the door shut behind him when he goes.

Jackson heaves a sigh of relief, then flops back onto the _very_ comfortable bed. Despite Derek’s terrible track record with, well, pretty much everything, Jackson feels safe here, and he drifts off quickly.

 

*

 

He expects Derek to roust him out early the next morning, but he’s left to his own devices. He eventually gets tired of checking his phone and tablet, though, and wanders out of the bedroom.

Derek’s eating breakfast in the kitchen, reading a book propped up against a metal centerpiece. “Help yourself to anything,” he says, then turns the page.

Jackson makes eggs and toast, and while tempted to ask for tea, settles for coffee instead. Derek lets him sit down and eat a few bites before he says, “Got any plans for today?”

“Just going to hang out with Danny,” Jackson says. “He should be in town in a few hours.”

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you,” Derek says, giving him a small smile.

“Yeah, definitely,” Jackson says, because Danny had sounded pretty excited over the phone. “What about you?”

Derek’s eyebrows go up. “Am _I_ happy to see you?”

“No,” Jackson says, though he’d actually like to know the answer to that question. “Do _you_ have any plans for today?”

“I have an article on supernatural lore to submit to the publisher, and I’m planning to make a roast for dinner,” Derek says, shrugging. “That’s about it.”

“Submit an article?” Jackson repeats. He had no idea Derek was a writer.

“Yeah, every month I send out an article discussing various mythical creatures and how to deal with them. Occasionally it’s about a significant plant or spell-work item, too—did three pages of copy on mountain ash alone,” he says. Catching Jackson’s bewildered look, he adds, “It’s the easiest and most legitimate way to get this information out to the wolf packs who need it. Not all of them have the resources we do.”

Jackson nods, takes a casual bite of toast. “Written one on kanimas?”

“Yes,” Derek says easily. “And how to change them into the werewolves they were always meant to be.”

Jackson’s still trying to find a response for that when his phone dings. He glances at it reflexively, and brightens when he sees the message. “Danny’s going to be here in an hour, I better get ready,” he says, scarfing the rest of his breakfast.

He loves Danny, and knows he’d be happy to see Jackson just like this, but he can’t stand the idea of looking anything less than fantastic for their first face-to-face meeting in years.

 

*

 

“So, what fancy hotel are you staying at?” Danny asks teasingly, playing with the straw on his soda.

Jackson is still so happy to see him, so busy taking in his scent even after the exuberant hug outside the café, that he almost misses the question. “The hotel you picked me up from twenty minutes ago,” he says wryly.

“But you were at Derek’s loft—” Danny begins, shocked. “You’re really staying with him?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says cautiously, wondering if Derek has _actually_ murdered someone this time. “Why?”

“I just got the impression that you didn’t like each other. At all.” Danny raises his eyebrows. “So how is it?”

“Fine so far. He’s stopped with all the bullshit aggressive posturing, as far as I can tell,” Jackson says, shrugging. _He’s stopped being someone I was afraid of turning into_ , he keeps to himself. He’d seen his future in Derek Hale, and that was part of the reason he’d left as soon as he could.

But they’re different now, maybe not a lot, but hopefully enough, and the future doesn’t look nearly so bleak.

“He does seem like he’s mellowed, from what I hear through Stiles and Lydia,” Danny says. “But I haven’t seen him in a while. I’m guessing he’s still super hot?”

“Yep,” Jackson says, taking a sip of his drink. “Still super hot.”

 

*

 

Considering that they skype and text at least once a week, and are therefore reasonably up to date on each other’s lives, they still end up talking for hours. Eventually Jackson reaches his tolerance of vinyl seating and strong coffee, but he still doesn’t want to say goodbye when Danny drives him back to the loft.

“Thanks for this,” he says, and then can’t continue because his throat is suddenly tight.

“You know, you’d see me a lot more often if you decided to stick around,” Danny says, squeezing his shoulder. “Just something to keep in mind.”

“Yeah,” Jackson says, giving Danny a smile before pushing the car door open. “I’m considering it.”

Danny waves and drives away, and Jackson watches him go before heading up the stairs.

When he rolls open the door, he sees Derek propped up on his huge bed, with Scott and Stiles curled up on either side of him. He has a book in his hands but he’s not reading it, he’s just quietly talking to them instead, a soft little smile on his face. The sight of that makes Jackson want to growl, to flash his eyes warningly.

It’s partly some sort of jealousy, because he has no idea what kind of relationship is happening there, and partly that Derek is so comfortable with them when he won’t so much as _touch_ Jackson.

He bites down on his snarl, and quickly turns toward the kitchen in hopes of hiding both his expression and his scent. But he can still hear them murmuring to each other, so he just keeps going all the way to his temporary bedroom.

He shuts the door and curls around a pillow and tries to figure out why he feels this awful.

 

*

 

It takes some time, but when feels less like clawing something apart, he texts Lydia.

 _How did Derek change so much?_ He needs to know how Derek went from being essentially a lone wolf with a few inept lackeys, to…this.

 _You’re the one living with him, dumbass_ , Lydia sends back. _Ask him yourself_.

Jackson absolutely does _not_ want to do that, at least not right now. He doesn’t even want to be _here_ at all, close to the snuggle fest he is in no way jealous of, so. He’s a little ashamed that he’s imitating Derek, but he slips out the window anyway, leaping down to a second-floor balcony, then to the ground.

He spots Derek’s Camaro and does a quick check of his reflection in the spotless window before he leaves, because he can’t bear the thought of anyone around here seeing him less than perfectly put together.

He ends up taking a long, looping path through Beacon Hills, letting himself genuinely think about what it’d be like to live here again. With the pack.

With Derek.

He shoves that thought away, because it’s useless. There’s never been any interest in Derek’s scent, and there likely never will be.

He needs to figure out what he’s going to do, but for some of that he needs to talk to other people.

And he’s never been great at asking for help.

But he doesn’t want to revert back to who he was—someone who did whatever necessary to achieve his goals without and concern for others, creating enemies and isolating himself from everyone else. He wants to be someone who can actually belong, this time.

The thought makes him tip his head back, and he nearly howls for the pack before he manages to swallow it down. He’s made it to the edge of the preserve, and he stares thoughtfully into the trees, wondering if he needs to shift and just run for a while.

His restlessness isn’t really the problem though, and he turns back toward Derek’s loft. It’s getting late anyway.

When he climbs back in through the window, the bedroom door is ajar, and he tenses a little automatically. But there’s no one lying in wait there, or out in the hallway.

There is, however, a covered plate of food on his bed. The note next to it says, in what Jackson can only assume is Derek’s handwriting, _We missed you at dinner. Hopefully this is still good._

Jackson flips the cover off the plate, and realizes he unintentionally bailed on a dinner of all of his favorites: tender, braised beef, creamy pasta, and thick, crusty bread—the kind he always restricted himself on before the change, but often craved.

There’s a level of thoughtfulness here he can’t quite wrap his head around.

And even lukewarm, everything is _delicious_.

 

*

 

Jackson tries to keep his feelings to himself, but he’s never been great at subtlety, so Derek catches on in approximately five seconds.

“Jackson, what is your problem?” he asks, but it’s not frustrated or angry or even exasperated. No, it’s just genuine concern.

 _I want what I can’t have_ , Jackson thinks wildly, but he’s definitely not telling Derek that. “How did this—” he tries, but he can’t quite finish his sentence. He does his best to regroup. “When I left here, you didn’t have anyone—you kept everyone at arm’s length until they stayed away on their own. So how—what changed?”

Derek looks at him a long time, face impassive. “ _I_ did,” he says eventually. “I started really listening, started trying to meet people—my _pack_ —halfway. And it took time, but gradually I was able to let them know what I was honestly thinking and feeling.” His eyes narrow a little. “You want them to treat you the way they treat me? Is that it?”

“Yes,” Jackson says shortly, then can’t help adding, “Like I’m part of the pack.”

“Jackson, they don’t even know if you _want_ to be part of the pack, so they’re not just going to act like you are.” _You acted like you were too good for them before_ , Derek doesn’t say, but Jackson hears it anyway. “So you can start by allowing yourself to be vulnerable around them. Don’t run off and hide when you’re afraid of what you’re feeling,” he adds, looking significantly at the bedroom door. “Let them in.”

“I am _not_ afraid of my emotions,” Jackson bites out, because Derek is certainly one to talk.

“Maybe not the anger and arrogance you use a shield,” Derek says calmly. “But I’m not convinced about the rest. You’re back here after years away, it’s okay to feel left out or uncertain. You get that, right?”

Jackson gives a short nod. It doesn’t really matter, knowing it doesn’t stop him from feeling it.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Derek asks, eyeing him intently.

Jackson clenches his jaw, tries to keep it in, but now’s a good a time as any to take Derek’s advice. “Why won’t you—everyone else hugged me when I came back, why won’t you? Why won’t you _touch_ me at all?”

“Do you want me to?” Derek asks quietly. “Because you used to hate me.”

“I never hated you,” Jackson growls out. _I only dreaded that you were what I’d become_. “I just didn’t like the way you’d always try to intimidate me and push me around.”

“I didn’t like it either, and it didn’t work anyway, so I stopped,” Derek says, shrugging. “I’m not that person anymore.” He steps closer, curves an arm out toward Jackson.

Jackson is sort of tempted to turn down the invitation, considering he practically had to beg for it—but he wants it too much to do that. He steps into it, hand resting lightly on Derek’s hip.

Derek pulls him in, arms folding around him tightly, and Jackson tenses up all over, ready to run because he’s nearly on the verge of tears. Instead he leans into it, clinging hard to Derek and ducking his head to press his cheek against Derek’s chest. Derek’s heartbeat in his ear is steady and calming as Jackson shudders and tries to control his breathing.

Derek’s scent is something warm, welcoming, and Jackson wants to lose himself in it, wants to stay like this forever.

He can’t, of course.

His hands have mysteriously ended up bunched in Derek’s shirt, and it takes a moment to untangle them. Derek seems just as unwilling to let go, but his arms slowly drop away when Jackson steps back.

Jackson keeps his head bowed, can’t quite bear to look at Derek before he turns and heads back to his bedroom.

 

*

 

He hardly sleeps that night, too elated and frightened by turns at the possibilities in front of him. The only thing standing in his way is his unexpected attraction to Derek, which has the potential to make things very awkward.

And admittedly, some of his interest isn’t new—of course not, he has _eyes_ —but this time he’s wanting something softer, more kind than the rough sex he’d always fantasized about them having.

He wants something _real_.

But that’s not going to happen. He’s gotten better at reading Derek’s scent over the past few days, and there’s still no indication of interest around him.

So now he needs to figure out if that’s something he can handle.  

That question keeps him awake for a long time, and by morning he still doesn’t have an answer.

He gets tired of lying in bed, mind running in circles, and decides the best course of action is to talk to Derek.

He heads for Derek’s open-air “bedroom” because it’s early and he figures that’s where Derek will be. He’s not, though, and Jackson’s senses inform him that Derek is in the shower. For a brief moment Jackson’s libido is _very_ tempted to listen in, find out if Derek is getting rid of any…tension.

But he’s trying not to be that person, so he does his best to tune out the patter of water and sits on Derek’s bed to wait. Problem is, he’s sleepy and bored and the bed is _huge_ , so ends up flopping back and spreading himself out on it, breathing in Derek’s scent.

He’ll just close his eyes for a second.

He doesn’t know how much longer Derek will be, after all.

When Jackson wakes up Derek is curled up next to him, smelling warm and clean, one hand resting lightly on his hip. He’s only barely dozing, likely to wake at any movement, so Jackson keeps completely still save for the helpless little smile pulling at his lips, and closes his eyes again.

He’d dated and fucked and had a lot of fun in London, but he’s never experienced something like this, too wary and distrustful to let people close. So now he savors the comfort and familiarity, feeling entirely content.

Here, lying next to Derek, he feels like he doesn’t have to worry about how he’ll be perceived or whether or not he’ll be accepted. Right now he feels like he’s the person Danny’s always seen in him, the person he is when he can let his guard down.

Because Derek, who’d gotten a read on exactly who Jackson was after knowing him for all of thirty seconds—and had _mocked_ him for it—accepts him now, despite everything in the past.

Despite the fact that Jackson had turned tail and run at the first sign that things would be difficult.

Derek had obviously learned to lighten his hold on everyone else, surely he’d give Jackson room to grow, too.

And maybe Jackson will actually let himself fill that space.

 

*

 

He must fall asleep again, because sometime later he awakens to Derek softly touching his shoulder. “You can’t sleep all day,” he says when Jackson cracks his eyes open. He gives Jackson an encouraging little smile. “Let’s go get some lunch.”

He slips his hand under Jackson’s arm and tugs. Jackson is tempted to close his eyes again, just for fun, but he follows Derek’s lead and rolls out of bed. Derek’s hand slides warmly down his back as he does, and Jackson has to work to suppress a shiver.

And the contact seems to be a trend—Derek keeps giving him frequent touches on the arm and back as they make their way to a little diner, and then continue more subtly throughout the entire time they’re there.

Jackson has no point of reference for _this_ Derek, so he has no idea if this is normal, or if it means something else entirely.

Either way, he likes it.

Especially the way Derek will reach across the table and gently touch his wrist when he’s making a point, and the way his fingertips brush against Jackson’s when he passes something over for Jackson to try.

Jackson had a lot of sex in London, but apparently he was missing a different kind of intimacy.

They end up eating very slowly, interspersing every bite with a lot of conversation, which Derek is better at than Jackson would have imagined. And they do have a lot to catch up on.

It’s so weirdly normal and pleasant that he doesn’t actually want to leave, but there’s only so long he can linger over his slice of chocolate cake before Derek gets suspicious. And they _literally_ live together right now, so it’s not like he won’t see Derek once they leave.

There’s nobody at the loft when they get back, which is unusual, because Jackson’s pretty sure it’s the pack’s regular hangout spot or secret lair, or whatever. He strolls in and pauses halfway to the living room to stretch his arms up, feeling good all over.

He’s just about to suggest a movie on the couch when Derek’s hand closes gently around the back of his neck, thumb swiping gently across the muscle and tickling the short hairs there. Jackson typically wouldn’t accept something like that, because it’s an especially vulnerable place for werewolves to be touched, but he trusts Derek. He just starts to lean into it when Derek suddenly jerks away, face closing off.

“Sorry,” he says. “This is why I was holding off from touching you. I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it without intent.”

Jackson blinks, trying to parse that along with Derek’s gruff tone. “What kind of intent?” he asks cautiously. He can’t imagine that Derek wants to hurt him, but he also has _no_ idea what’s going on right now.

“It’s…attraction. I’m interested in you,” Derek says carefully. “But you’re not even sure you’re going to stick around, so—”

“You want to date me?” Jackson cuts in disbelievingly, eyebrows raised. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“I’d like to,” Derek says mildly. “See where things go.”

“Then how come—why didn’t your scent change?” Jackson asks, still not quite convinced.

“There are a few things I do still keep to myself,” Derek says, smiling a little. “I’ve learned to control some of my reactions.”

“Oh,” Jackson says, surprised. But if anyone could hide a part of their scent, it would be Derek. “Did you like me before? I mean, were you attracted to me when I was in high school?” He’s not entirely sure he wants to know the answer, but he asks anyway.

“No,” Derek says with complete certainty. “You reminded me too much of myself, of the person I was before everything—”

He stops there, but Jackson’s pretty sure he knows how that sentence ends.

“You’re not that person anymore, though,” Derek continues. “And just because my interest in you is new, it doesn’t mean it’s not real.” He raises a hand before Jackson can say anything. “Look, I’m not trying to keep you here. But I’m hoping this might be a reason you come back.”

“I’m not leaving,” Jackson blurts. “I haven’t even wanted to, not really.” He glances away from Derek for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. “And I’d like to give this,” he gestures between them, “a try. I do have one condition, though.”

“What’s that?” Derek asks, looking fondly amused.

“We have to find somewhere else for me to live,” Jackson says. “Soon.”

“Why?” Derek asks, looking a little hurt now.

“Because things are going to get way too intense way too fast if I stay here with you,” Jackson says. “And I want this to have a real chance.”

His eyes trace the pleased curl of Derek’s lips before he leans in, giving him a light, soft kiss. He’d never admit it, but it sends a tingle all the way to his toes.

“Fine,” Derek says, trying to sound put out, though he’s obviously happy. “We’ll start apartment hunting right now.”

“We don’t need to go _right_ this instant,” Jackson hedges, reeling him back in, eager to feel that stubble against his lips. “We have a little time.”

Derek just smiles, and doesn’t argue at all.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come by and prompt me/talk to me [ on tumblr](http://dragon-temeraire.tumblr.com/).


End file.
